


Anxiety

by marvelaf



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, F/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16907796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelaf/pseuds/marvelaf
Summary: Anxiety can most commonly be described as a feeling of worry. Not for me. When I feel anxious, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and feel like I’m being crushed by the weight of everyday tasks. You know, the usual definition doesn’t even scratch the surface of the pain and suffering my fucked up brain gives me.





	Anxiety

Anxiety can most commonly be described as a feeling of worry. Not for me. When I feel anxious, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and feel like I’m being crushed by the weight of everyday tasks. You know, the usual definition doesn’t even scratch the surface of the pain and suffering my fucked up brain gives me.

I’m currently laying in bed at 3 AM with Chris fast asleep beside me. I decide that I can’t lay there simmering in my own thoughts anymore. I get out of the bed as quietly as I can. My bare feet quietly pad over to the couch. I sit in my shared pitch black apartment feeling more alone than I ever have. My hands are covering my face, shielding my eyes from my struggles. My leg is bouncing and I’m sweating everywhere. My breathing starts to pick up and I can feel the panic trying to consume me like a riptide trying to pull me under. My heart feels like it’s about to pound directly out of my chest and onto the coffee table in front of me.

I shoot up off the couch and speed walk to the kitchen in an attempt to get some water. I grab a glass but my hands are so shaky that it slips through and collides with the cold tile floors. I sink to the floor trying to pick up the shards of glass when Chris emerges from the bedroom.

“Baby?” Chris asks with love laced into the word. I look up at him with a great deal of panic in my eyes. I start to stand up but, I step on some glass shards. I’m about to fall but Chris’ strong arms keep me steady.

Tears are streaming down my face as I cling to the safety that is Chris. He lifts me into his arms as I cry into his soft sleep shirt. The pain in my foot is nothing compared to the way my lungs feel as the desperate attempt to breathe.

“Chris, I-I can’t b-breathe” I whimpered.

“I know baby, I know” Chris said. He sits on the couch with me still in his arms. He positions my head on his chest so I can hear his heartbeat.

“Match my rhythm, okay?” I nod in compliance and listen closely to the beating of his calm heart.

After about fifteen minutes, once my breathing calmed and my tears dried, Chris stood up with me in his arms. He gently placed me on the coffee table and walks to the closet.

“Chris?” I call out into the darkness hoping to hear my boyfriend's deep calming voice call back to me. He comes back quickly with a damp and dry rag, tweezers and a box of plus-sized band-aids.

“This might hurt” Chris whispers as he places a kiss on my forehead. He uses the tweezers to pull the pieces of glass out of my bloody foot. He then cleans the wound and places one of the band-aids on my foot. He pecks a short kiss over the band-aid then helps me up. I hold on to him as we walk into the bedroom. Chris helps me to bed but then walks away from the bed.

“I have to clean the kitchen, but I’ll be right back okay?” He says. I suddenly feel very guilty that Chris has to clean up the mess that I made.

After what feels like an eternity, Chris comes back to bed and pulls me to his chest. He is running his hand through my hair when I whisper just loud enough for him to hear,

“I’m sorry.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, you can’t control when you feel like this” He whispers as he kisses the crown of my head multiple times.

“I love you Chris.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, writers live off kudos and comments!


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